Vocal portrait

I’m heavily weighed down
I think I know now
I can’t tell you how
Gold bars tied to my feet
Rooted deep in the ground
Its amazing how
Ignorant I am of treasures
Hidden, covered in dirt
And all I do every now and then is sing the hustler’s anthem
A lullaby to put to sleep the turmoil in my chest
My dreams and nightmares
Only a fine thin line dividing them
If I would just bend
Break my back, dig the earth
Maybe I will find something
My own diamonds in the rough
But I don’t want to get my fingernails filled with dirt
I can’t stand the back ache my
family’s got a history with that
What would people think of me
If I’m seen like this or that
The state of confusion and ambivalence of a young guy today
The pressures of making something of myself, out of myself and for myself
the innate desire to satisfy the perception of what I think people make of myself
Both unnecessary social
conventions we are predisposed to from infancy
I know I want to make it
But what is it I want to make?
With questions like these unanswered I never realized I might be after fool’s gold
I shun tradition and disregard the virtues of old
And its too late until I realize that I’ve allowed indecisiveness have a stronghold
Clamped tight around my neck choking the courage, allowing my ideas to suffocate with me
Till I’m reduced to a broken and naked me
The version of me a caricature more precisely
Pain sorrow grief twisted in a bitter agony
Memories from my eyes rolling down my cheeks
My mind blanks out I blink twice my tear ducts are dry
Yes! I’m done
I’m done waking up with puffed up eyes and tear stained cheeks
I bought the lie these people sold me now I want a refund
I’m doing what I know to do best
I won’t stop till I’m sitting on my throne like Kanye West

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